


Mistaken Affection

by Angel Ascending (angel_in_ink)



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Delirium, F/F, Feelings, Fever, Hurt/Comfort, Prompt Fill, Whump Fic Bingo, Writing This Hurt My Heart A Little, lots of feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-03
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-11-08 11:45:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17980715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angel_in_ink/pseuds/Angel%20Ascending
Summary: “How is she?” Beau asks before Caduceus has even opened the door an inch.For his part, Caduceus only blinks at her abruptness and takes a deep breath before answering. “The same as an hour ago. And the hour before that. Not any worse.”“But not any better.”“Not any better,” Caduceus agrees. “It’s just going to take some more time. We’ve done all we can.” He frowns when he says that, like he doesn’t like that answer as much as she does.“Can I see her?”





	Mistaken Affection

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Whump Fic Bingo prompt "becoming giggly with blood loss or high fever" featuring Yasha.

“How is she?” Beau asks before Caduceus has even opened the door an inch.

For his part, Caduceus only blinks at her abruptness and takes a deep breath before answering. “The same as an hour ago. And the hour before that. Not any worse.”

“But not any better.”

“Not any better,” Caduceus agrees. “It’s just going to take some more time. We’ve done all we can.” He frowns when he says that, like he doesn’t like that answer as much as she does.

“Can I see her?”

Caduceus looks like he wants to say no, and Beau mentally braces herself. She will not stun Caduceus and push past him for several reasons, one of which is because they’re friends, and because she’s smart enough to know that it’s a bad idea to hurt a cleric just on general principles. Not all their spells are for healing. Jester taught her that.

“Have you slept at all?” Caduceus asks instead, peering down at her.

“Have you?” Beau fires back with immediately. The answer is she hasn’t, not really, not unless she counted falling asleep face-first in a book for twenty minutes as actual sleep. They were going to need more books about demons and fiends if these rifts were going to keep popping up everywhere. Not even Zadash was safe, it seemed. She’ll head to the Cobalt Soul archives if need be, if things don’t improve soon. It’s well past moonrise, but she’ll break their damn door down if it comes to that.

Caduceus runs a hand along the shaved side of his head. “Not nearly enough,” he says. “All right then. You can stay with her while I go make tea and wake Jester.”

“Thank you,” Beau says, trying to sound grateful instead of exhausted.

Caduceus lays his hand on her shoulder for just a moment before moving past her.

The room smells like sweat and old blood, two smells that Beau has long since been acquainted with, but there’s a third smell overlaid on top, something hot and sour. Fever. Infection. Beau wrinkles her nose but doesn’t stop moving toward the bed, sidestepping the neat pile of discarded, bloodied bandages as she sits in the chair that Caduceus had vacated.

She looks down at Yasha, at her flushed face, her sunken eyes, at the bandages that cover the bite mark that refuses to heal with any sort of speed despite both Caduceus and Jester’s best efforts. Everyone else had healed just fine from the wounds the abyssal creature had given them, but not Yasha. Maybe it had something to do with her aasimar heritage? No one was sure.

Beau dips a cloth in the basin of water beside the bed and lays it across Yasha’s forehead. Yasha’s brow furrows and she makes a confused sort of sound as her eyes open.

“Oh fuck,” Beau says. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

Yasha just looks at her, eyes slightly glazed for a moment before they brighten, widening in surprise. “Oh,” she says quietly. “There you are.”

“Yeah, sorry. I was doing research with Caleb. Trying to figure out what in the hells bit you. Or what in the Abyss, I guess.”

Yasha makes a sound, and for a second Beau can’t place what it is. Beau has heard Yasha laugh before, a deep throaty chuckle not unlike her own, velvet over steel. But the laughter Beau hears now, the only sound in the room, is as bright and gentle as warm spring rain falling onto flower petals.

“I missed you,” Yasha says, and laughs again. In any other context, Beau would smile at the sound of Yasha’s laughter, but it’s so out of place, too great of a contrast.

“I—um— missed you too,” Beau says finally. “Yasha are you—“

There are tears spilling from Yasha’s eyes as she shifts in bed and reaches up to touch Beau’s cheek. The smile Yasha has on her face is one Beau has never seen on the barbarian before. It’s a smile filled with joy, filled with love, and for one second Beau manages to delude herself that the smile is actually for her.

Yasha says something melodic that Beau doesn’t understand, the notes rising and falling like speech. Beau thinks it’s Celestial, though she’s only heard Yasha and Caleb speak it a handful of times.

Yasha laughs again. “Sorry. It’s just been so long. I have flowers for you. I collected so many.”

Beau simply stares, as frozen as if she had been paralyzed by poison, her face growing warm even as her stomach turns to ice. Of course that smile, that laugh, those weren’t for her. Who would ever smile at her like that, look at her with such open affection? Who does Yasha see in Beau’s place? A beloved family member? A soulmate? A lover? A wife? Yasha’s hand on her cheek burns like a brand, marking Beau as a thief, taking affection that is not hers.

“Zuala,” Yasha whispers, her voice soft and full of wonder.

“I’m not—“ Beau starts to say, and that’s when the door opens behind her. She startles at the sound, standing up so quickly that the chair she was sitting in clatters to the floor.

“Beau? What’s wrong?” Jester’s voice behind her.

“Beau?” Yasha says, the smile wavering on her face, confusion filling her eyes.

Beau doesn’t wait for Yasha’s confusion to turn to disappointment. She picks the chair back up before turning towards Jester, giving her a smile that feels as brittle as her heart.

“Sorry Jester, I’m just tired. Jumpy. That’s all.”

“You should get some sleep,” Jester says. “I promise I’ll send a message if something bad happens. Okay?”

“Yeah,” Beau says softly as she leaves the room. “Yeah, okay.”

When Beau knocks on Caleb’s door he answers it with a book in his hand. “Beau? I thought you were going to check on Yasha and then get some sleep. Is everything all right?”

“You know Celestial, don’t you?”

Caleb blinks. “Yes.”

“Can you—Yasha said something. It might have been Celestial, or maybe it was nothing.” She clears her throat, shoving the memories of her mother lamenting at her terrible singing voice to the back of her mind and sings what Yasha had said, the phrase short but heartfelt. “Sorry, I know I sound awful.”

Caleb shakes his head. “You do not.” He tilts his head, singing the phrase softly. “It means… ‘one who is most precious in my heart’ I guess is how it translates in Common. She said this to you?”

Beau shakes her head, feeling tears burning behind her eyes. She’s tired and overemotional. That’s all this is. “She’s delirious with fever. She was saying it to the person she thought I was.”

“Ah.” Caleb looks at her for a moment, then reaches up and puts a hand on her shoulder, like he does when he’s seeing through Frumpkin’s eyes. “I am sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Beau says thickly. She’s no one’s first choice, her parents taught her that, and the rest of the world seems to keep confirming it. “I should get some sleep.”

Frumpkin saunters through the doorway and winds himself around Beau’s ankles, purring.

“You’re making him do that,” Beau says, her fists starting to clench. “I don’t need your pity, Caleb.”

Caleb shakes his head. “I asked him if he wanted to stay with you tonight. I did not command him.”

Beau looks him in the eye and Caleb doesn’t flinch. If he’s lying to her, she can’t tell, not without punching it out of him. “Yeah, okay. Sure.” She scoops Frumpkin up. “Thank you.”

“You are welcome, Beauregard.” Caleb’s eyes are sad, but kind. “Sleep well.”

Beau does not sleep well. Every time she closes her eyes she sees Yasha smile, or hears her laugh, expressions of love that were meant for another and not for her. And if she cries in the night, bitter hot tears of anger or self-pity or worry or sorrow, well, Frumpkin was the only one there to see them.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm angel-ascending on Tumblr and angel_in_ink on Twitter if y'all want to stop by and say hi!


End file.
